


I don't know where you're going ( but maybe you have room for one more troubled soul ? )

by Yvison (Ississ)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Bloodplay, Choking, M/M, Multiple Relationships, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, if only slightly ?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-01 22:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8640802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ississ/pseuds/Yvison
Summary: Newt has always been a giver, and the thing about Credence is, he has never been a taker either.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I haven't written a fanfic in over a year ( or so ? ) BUT HERE I AM.  
> fantastic beasts was such a beautiful and pure movie I loved it from the bottom of my heart, as soon as I left the cinema I knew I wanted to write something like this. 
> 
> So here it is I guess. 
> 
> None beta'ed and English isn't my first language.

Credence wonders if he’ll ever be able to sleep, he has been awake for nearly 48 hours and it has started to affect him. He’d always thought he didn’t need sleep, that it was just one of the very few luxuries he could afford. Sleep had never been about resting for him, it had always been about getting away from his ma and the horrible thoughts which swam around his brain during the day.

Right now, he accepted that sleep was no longer a luxury, but a necessity. Credence no longer needed it to escape from the woman he’d called his mother for years. He no longer needed it to escape from the feeling of lightning which ran through his veins, constantly pushing against the boundaries of his flesh. The magic inside him had always longed to come out, he understood that now. It had roared inside him like a beast for years, and he still wondered how he’d ever been able to tame it on his own. 

Newt had taken him to a room with a properly sized bed, and the softest bedding he’d ever felt, and whispered he’d needed to sleep. Credence had said he would, but no matter how soft the bedding were, or how comforting it was to hear Newt doing his business behind the door. It was strange when it came to being with Newt. The other never expected anything from him, never asked for a favour. It was different in that way when he’d placed all of his trust in mister Graves.  
Credence wonders if he’ll ever sleep, maybe this is god his deal. Credence gets to be safe during the day, but never gets the joy of another dreamless sleep again. The lighting underneath his skin has turned to a gentle warmth. No longer ready to consume him alive, but rather warming his core with a gentle pulsing rhythm. He owes Newt a lot, he understands that more than people realise. Credence has heard the whispers when he’s outside. The soft voices from behind him when he passes. They call him dangerous, they deem him ungrateful.  
He understands that he should have died that fateful day, he understands that Newt should never have saved him from the monster that he once was. But he isn’t ungrateful, not to Newt, and most certainly not to his other saviour. Graves. After all it had been Graves who had come to him when he could no longer see the light in the dark. It had been Graves who had truly saved him from his mother when he’d needed it the most. Of course he had betrayed him after that, but it didn’t matter.  
He isn’t sure when he started crying, but his pillow is damp and his cheeks are tear stained. Graves had always hated it when he cried. He would wipe his face with the back of his hand and whisper words of comfort. Credence would melt against the other man’s frame, as if he wanted to crawl inside Graves. After all, he was desperately trying to get away from the home he had despised and feared for many years now. 

Graves had showed him kindness, when no other could find it in him. Credence had been determined to give everything he could to the wizard, even if it wasn’t much. After all, what could a boy like him to for such a man? Graves had everything he desired. Credence couldn’t do much, or even be anything Graves needed. Or at least, that was what he thought. Until he felt a hand rest on his lower back the next time he cries. He felt the ghost of lips against his tear stained cheeks, and the lingering touch of a finger tracing his bottom lip.  
He knows what he must do now to repay the kindness and the safety that Graves has given him. 

The first time they kiss Graves closes the distance between them, it is just the confirmation which Credence needs. He could never have imagined that anyone would ever want him that way, but here he is, with the lighting being more powerful than ever underneath his pale skin than he has ever felt. Graves kisses him again and again, until Credence is wishing that he’d never stop. He feels as if he could take on the entire world, right here and now, pressed against the wall of some dirty backstreet alley. His mother would beat him senseless if she ever found out.  
Credence doesn’t say a word when a pair of strong hands become to rest on his hips, just as he keeps silent when lips leave his and start to mark territory on fragile pale skin in his neck. The lighting shifts, to directly beneath where lips rest, Credence is sure that Graves can feel it. He must have felt the pulse of it. Maybe that’s why he bites down, hard, until he breaks the skin and blood wells up from the tiny wounds. The lighting is still trapped but it has never been trying to escape as hard as it does during that moment. Credence is sure he whispered a prayer somewhere down the line. God is so easy to call upon when you’re trapped in bliss.  
He nearly misses the dangerous smile Graves gives him, nearly, but not entirely. His eyes fly open and he wonders why he even closed them in the first place. Why did he ever want to miss any of this, after all, this is the only true time he has ever felt wanted in his life. The shy ghost of a smile still plays on Graves his lips as he licks them in one swift motion. Have his lips always been this perfectly crimson, or was it his blood which stained them? Credence isn’t sure anymore. Just as he isn’t sure anymore if the wicked smile and look in Graves his eyes have always been there, or if he is simply just noticing them. 

Lips leave flesh, but the hands stay steady and true to their goal. Gently resting on his hips, thumbs rubbing circles in a gentle motion near the inside of his thighs. The name leaves his slightly parted lips like a prayer ‘Percival’. It becomes so easy to say it, to say the name of the man currently looming over him. It is in that moment that Credence decides that he has found a new deity to be loyal too. His mother’s god never favoured him anyway.  
Suddenly he feels the pain of fingers digging into flesh, hard enough to leave bruises, and his breath gets knocked out of him with the force Graves presses their lips together. Hungry and needing. The lighting roars inside of him, partly due to the pain, and partly because he must have felt how much there was wrong about the whole situation. When their lips part once more he can’t help but let out a soft sound of pain. He is rewarded with another bite, this time on his collarbone, and with no soothing kiss to ease the pain afterwards. 

He is weak, he has known it all along. Never has he had the courage to do something right. Never has he had the courage to stand up to his mother, to stand up to the world outside this place. That must be why he finds himself in these situations. Covered in bruises and bite marks, laying on a pearly white bedding which looks smooth but is rough to the touch after years of wear. It must have been magic which has kept those sheets looking fresh and new, but even magic couldn’t hide the fowl things which they had to endure.  
Credence takes it like a good boy, he never sheds a tear, not once does he cry out in pain when it hurts. Oh god, how it hurts. Maybe he is too young, too naïve to understand that this is the worst decision he could ever have made. But to him Graves is nothing but comfort. Graves has been there for him when he needed him the most, he has given him a goal which he is more than happy to fulfil.  
His mother would despise him, beat him until sweet oblivion came for him. But he didn’t care about his mother, didn’t even think about her when Graves wrapped him up in his arms afterwards. The lightning came to rest inside him. Safely caged behind his ribcage, resting near his heart there was comfort. Credence was finally at peace with himself. It didn’t matter that Graves refused to heal his new wounds, nor did it matter when he betrayed him days after. It had been his way of saying thanks. It had been his way of saying a prayer to his new god.  
Credence wakes up with Newt sitting on the other side of his bed, reading one of his books apparently deeply lost in though. He doesn’t know how long he has slept, he didn’t even realise that he’d fallen asleep. “Good morning.” He whispers softly, his head hurts from sleeping to long and he is vaguely aware of how utterly lost he must look right now. Laying in a bed which feels soft enough to sink into, his black hair ruffled from sleep and his eyes still glazy from his dreams. 

“Good afternoon, you mean.” Newt smiles at him while he closes his book and lays it down on his lap. “You must have slept for over 12 hours. I guess you truly needed to rest, didn’t you?” His voice is always so soft and gentle. Credence wonders how it is possible for men like Newt to exist in such a cruel world as this. He wonders how his heart could have stayed so kind, he wishes you could posses the same amount of kindness one day.  
Had it really been only 12 hours? He feels as if he missed a couple of months. How he wishes he could miss a couple of months. Tina had told him it would take time for him to heal, and he had taken her advice to take things easy for a while. But the scars didn’t fade as fast as he would have hoped. He still struggled with basic things, like saying what he wanted. Newt had tried to help him with it, starting small. Questions like ‘what would you like for breakfast?’ Or ‘do you want to go out for a stroll or stay in today?’ 

To others they would have been easy to answer, others wouldn’t have spared them any thought, but to him they sometimes felt like the most difficult thing in the entire world. Credence didn’t know what he wanted for breakfast. He didn’t know which tea he wanted during lunch, and he most certainly didn’t know where he wanted to go if they decided to leave the safety of the apartment. Most of the time he tried to let Newt decide, but he quickly learned that the Englishman wasn’t satisfied with a ‘I don’t know.’ Or an ‘I don’t mind what we do.’  
It had been little over a month since Newt had taken him under his wing, and he had learned that he liked strawberry flavoured tea with a little bit of honey mixed in, and that he liked his breakfasts to be simple and plain. He also learned that the hours he spend inside the magical suitcase were the best of his day.  
“I guess we can’t really go out anymore today, so, what do you want to do now that you’ve woken up, eat something now or later?” Two questions in one sentences, it was almost like Newt had found him to be ready for the next step. “Eat later.” He answers as he stretches and rubs the sleep from his eyes. He is hungry, he can’t deny that, but the pain of betrayal still lingers even after he has woken up and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stomach anything in this moment.  
“Very well then.” Newt gets up and places the book he had been reading on his nightstand. “I’ll be down in the suitcase if you need me, call me up when you get hungry. Alright Credence?” He smiles as an answer, how he wishes Newt would stay, if only for a little longer. He has grown accustomed to the other’s presence. So much even, that he feels lost when Newt isn’t around. 

“Is it alright if I come down as well, later?” Asking questions is easier for him, it is the only form of communication he is used to after all. Even if his questions were usually answered with a strict ‘no’ or a slap on the wrist, it was something familiar. He doesn’t get an answer, all he gets is a hand gently ruffling his hair and for the first time it feels comforting instead of denigrating. That is perhaps the most amazing quality of Newt, he doesn’t ask for much, he is a giver. And Credence himself has never been a taker either.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had half of this written already before I even posted the first chapter, so is it even a surprise that I uploaded it so soon? No, it really isn't. 
> 
> Thank you all for your kind words and your kudos and your bookmarks ♥ 
> 
> ( please don't get used to such fast updates, I'm actually HORRIBLY slow. )

He is dressed in such fine robes, so fine that he even wonders how they were able to afford them. Deep dark green with a hint of silver, they were utterly beautiful. Newt has paid for them, in fact, he is paying for everything Credence has at the moment. From the food he eats to the clothes he wears. Even the roof above his head is paid for by Newt. Guilt had settled inside his stomach a long time ago because of this. There is absolutely nothing he can do to repay the other. He can’t work, or at least not without Newt noticing, and the older man had been very clear about him not wanting Credence to find a job yet. So he helps with the little things, cleans the apartment whenever Newt it out. Makes their beds even before breakfast. Sometimes he even feeds the beasts down in the suitcase.   
Newt appreciates it, always makes sure that Credence knows exactly how much. After he has done a chore, no matter how small, he will always find a little gift waiting for him on the kitchen table. It might be a cup of tea with a little bit of magic (making it taste even sweeter, and making it refill itself whenever desired.) Or a new book for him to read. Today, it had been the new set of robes he had found waiting for him as soon as he came down the stairs.   
There is was also another surprise waiting for him, instead of being gone as usual, Newt was sitting at the kitchen table. A cup of tea resting comfortably between his hands. “I got you something.” He said, as if Credence hadn’t noticed it already. “You always do.” It is true, Newt always gets him a gift. Without fail. He simply doesn’t see that this is exactly the opposite of what he wants to accomplish.   
“You seem displeased.” Credence had just been on his way to make himself a cup of tea, but the remark had left him dead in his tracks. “Well, I’m not.” A hint of a blush plays on his cheeks and he hopes that Newt won’t get the wrong idea. It is only that he just now understands how hard it is to make his intentions clear. Frustrating even. All he wanted to do was repay Newt for his kindness, but the response to it was even more kindness. “Try them on then.” It had been a request instead of an order, and he could never voice how much he thanked Newt for it.   
That’s how he came to find himself standing in front of the large mirror in Newt’s bedroom. Credence still had to get used to these type of clothes which were typical wizard fashion, but he had to admit that they fit him rather well. The black pants and white button up shirt which he was wearing underneath had also been a gift from Newt, they had decided to throw out his old clothes since they had been ill fitting in the first place and they reminded him too much of the life he had left behind.   
“Look at you, a real wizard already.” Credence hadn’t heard Newt entering, nor had he noticed the other inspecting the new outfit. The compliment was enough to drag out a broad smile from him, and he hoped that he hadn’t started to blush like he’d feared. Newt spoke to him in the soft tone of a new father, one who was still trying out the boundaries of parenthood. He wished he wouldn’t. Not that he didn’t blossom in the gentle care of Newt Scamander, but he wasn’t a child anymore and he most certainly wasn’t one of the beasts locked up in the suitcase which Newt needed to fix.   
“Are we going somewhere?” It was a logical question, he assumed that Newt didn’t buy him new fancy clothes for a relaxing evening at home surrounded by a stack of books. “Maybe.”   
Oh how he hated it when Newt did that, sure, he could appreciate a little bit of mystery, after all if he didn’t he would never have headed out with Newt in the first place.   
A gentle tug on his robe averts his gaze downwards, there he sees Niffler trying to reach the shiny silver strands woven into the fabric. “Oh dear. Niffler!” Newt laughs as he picks up the creature and hold it in his arms. No doubt trying to keep the greedy little thing away from all things shiny within the apartment and possibly those of the neighbours. When Credence had been younger he’d always wanted a cat, but he too had to admit that Niffler was way better than any cat ever could have been.   
“How did you get out little guy?” Credence asks the creature resting in the arms of his housemate/mentor/savour. He is still unclear where he and Newt stand, one could say that they were friends, but to Credence they were something else. Something he couldn’t quite place just yet. There is no answer from the creature other than an annoyed little sound and the grabbing motion of its paws towards the silver strands.   
Once Niffler was once again safely inside the suitcase, and Newt had also changed into a new set of clothes which were just as fancy as the ones he was currently wearing, they set off. Credence still didn’t know where they were going. They had decided against leaving New York for a little while, after all, it was the place Credence knew best, and even Newt had to admit that he had started to grow fond of the city’s atmosphere.   
“Could you please tell me where we’re going?” It came out a bit too close to a plea, he didn’t like surprises. In the past they had always meant problems for him, and he was only getting used to the fact that with Newt they were mostly pleasant ones. “Please?”   
The laugh he got from Newt was a reward in itself, he adored the man even more when he laughed and it hadn’t taken him long to figure out that he would turn the hole world upside down and back again to draw some laughter from the man at his side. 

“What if I told you we were going to visit some old friends, would that comfort you enough to trust me?” The reply came swifter than intended. “I trust you.” He must have sounded desperate, looking too eagerly for approval. “Good to know.” Newt was teasing him, he could tell by the spark of mischief in those eyes he had grown to find comfort in. “Are you ready?” Credence knew what was to come, they were going to disappear in a flash and before he could understand what was going in they would have reappeared on their destined location. “Of course.”  
He could swear he felt the light touch of a thumb gently stroking his cheek before Newt placed his hand on his shoulder and dragged him into oblivion.

Before he even knew what had happened they were standing in front of a rather cosy looking apartment building, soft yellowish lights crowned the entrance and they seemed to call for him to come inside towards the warmth. He was all too eager to obey. “Do you remember this place?” Newt asked him, still having his hand protectively resting upon his shoulder. Credence sadly did not. He had been to so many places ever since that fateful night. He had seen so many buildings from the inside and out, it was hard to keep track of them sometimes.   
“Newt! Credence!” A woman with golden curls and the most beautiful soft pink dress Credence had ever seen came towards them, she was clothed in the most truest form of beauty. She was dressed in kindness and a gentle heart. He wondered how she knew his name, but not as much as he pondered the question how it could be that he remembered her from somewhere.  
“Oh darling –“ the woman graced him with the softest smile he had ever seen. “- of course you don’t remember, you might have been in shock when I met you.” Credence looked at Newt for guidance, and after that he simply looked at his feet, trying to decide if he wanted to be buried deep down underneath the pavement or if he wanted to become part of said pavement. “Don’t be shy, darling. I won’t bite. My name is Queenie. You surely will remember my sister, won’t you, Tina?” Of course he remembered Tina!   
“That’s what I thought, now let us go in before the food gets cold.” He doesn’t ask how Queenie can seem to read his mind, just as he doesn’t ask why Newt looks just a bit too happy to see Tina as soon as they step into the sisters their apartment. Credence has never been very jealous, you learn that much when you don’t have much to begin with, so this isn’t jealousy that he’s feeling. This, is far worse. It feels like someone just kicked him. It feels as if he has been betrayed yet another time.   
The dinner is pleasant, even if the others do most of the chatting and he simply focuses on his food. He doesn’t eat much, he can’t stomach large meals just yet, but he enjoys every bite eagerly. He doesn’t know how many compliments he has given to Queenie, but there must have been plenty. The women look at him as if they were to look at a puppy, and Newt? Well Newt doesn’t really seem to look at him at all.   
“You look very handsome Credence.” Queenie exclaims and he can’t help but smile at the compliment. He isn’t used to them, he is used to being told he looks worthless as ever, being told that he will never be found handsome by anyone. He notices the look Newt gives her, and he tries to understand it. Why would give Newt such a fowl look over a simple compliment. “Thank you very much.” He whispers as he tries to look anywhere but to the faces around him.   
“You look very handsome, boy.” Graves used to say that to him when he was dressed in nothing but a too thin white sheet. “Don’t you think your wounds look absolutely ravishing?” He can only imagine what it must look like, flaming red and darkened blue against a white canvas of sheets and skin. It has been a while since Graves has granted him the mercy to heal his injuries, and he missed it dearly. Graves takes hold of his wrists and pins them above his head. Credence has learned a long time ago that struggling won’t help a bit, if anything, it would only make things worse.   
“Why don’t you answer me, boy?” Lips search for a pulse, he can sense it. Graves wants to feel it again, wants to feel the danger which he has lurking underneath his skin. It isn’t hard to find, the lighting is basically exploding inside of him and he has to try his hardest to keep it contained for the time being. He can’t show it hear, not yet. “I don’t –“ Credence doesn’t even get to finish the sentence before strong hands wrap around his throat, blocking off his desperate attempts to get some air inside his lungs. 

“Don’t you dare say that you don’t know.” Graves his voice is little more than a dangerous growl, and the lighting becomes stronger as darkness takes over his vision. It is waiting for the moment it can lash out, strike in pure terror and anger. “Answer me!” The hands around his neck loosen ever so slightly, just enough to let precious air in, but not enough to escape. His vision is still blurry, his muscles weak. Credence knows what he wants to hear, knows the words all too well. They have been burned into his mind until he could think of nothing else when he was wrapped into the darkness of the unforgiving night.   
“I am yours, I will look however you desire me to.” There are tears hiding beneath the blackness of his vision. Graves must hear them hiding in the tone of his voice, he must sense his sadness in his pulse.   
“Good boy.” 

“Credence?” Someone calls his name, and it takes him a few seconds to figure out that it is Queenie, the woman with the gentle heart is looking at him with worry in her eyes. He never asked for this, he never asked to lose his parents, nor did he ask for that monster of a woman to take him into her house. He didn’t ask to meet Graves, and he surely didn’t ask for the unlucky occasion that he was found crying at a dinner party in pleasant company. 

“Excuse me for a second.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It's our dearest ally, it's our closest friend_   
>  _It's our darkest blackout, it's our final end_   
>  _My dear sweet nothing, let's start anew  
>  **From here on in, it's just me and you.**_

Credence can hear them talking from behind the closed door behind which he hides. He can hear them whispering at one another, and even if he can’t follow their conversation word for word he knows how it is going down. Tina is a bit harsh, even if she doesn’t mean to be, Credence had seen the kindness in her eyes which rested next to her determination. A dangerous combination for a woman with her mind set upon the world. Queenie is gentle like a daydream as she states facts coated in sugar. She has seen the horrors inside his mind, and he wonders how she will be able to bear them when he himself barely can.

Newt apologizes, even if he doesn’t know what for, Credence can hear it in the tone of his voice, he can hear the distress and the slightest frustration. Tears roll down his cheeks as his legs can no longer carry the weight of him. The white tiles of the bathroom in which he finds himself are suddenly closer than he’d wished for them to be. They are cool and calming to his burning face. Maybe he’s burning because of the shame, maybe it is because of the guilt. He never wanted this, never wanted to burden others with his problems. 

The white tiles seem to scream at him as he tries to cry without making a single sound. He used to be so good at it, used to be excellent at hiding, but lately he has found his emotions. Lately he has learned how good it feels to let it out, to cry while screaming. Newt had been kind enough to show him to open up, in happiness and all consuming sadness. For a while Credence had believed that Newt would actually be there with him, to help him through the horrors that lay ahead but he had been wrong. Newt had betrayed him, the way he had looked at Tina, the way he was not here right now helping him keep the lightning at bay.  
Credence was weak, he’d known it from the moment Graves forced him to suck him off for the first time. He hadn’t liked it, he had hated the taste and it became far worse as soon as Graves snapped his hips forcing him to take in far more than he could. Back then he’d cried as well, if only to allow his vision to grow blurry so that he didn’t have to see anymore. Another sharp thrust, another desperate gasp for air. “I like it when you do that –“ a soft tug at his raven hair. “–It makes me feel good.” 

Graves yanked at his hair, forcing his head back until Credence had no other choice but look him in the eye. “You want me to feel good, don’t you, my dear boy.” It wasn’t a question, it had never been one. Credence owed everything that was good in his life to mister Graves and he knew it. Mister Graves had given him an escape, a goal in his life, a promise of a better future. “Yes, I want to make you feel good.” 

“Then get to it, Salem boy.” 

He gasps in pain as gentle fingers trace across his wrists, bringing him back to cold white tiles in a perfectly neat bathroom. A hand is resting on his cheek, placed as if it belongs there, and a soothing thumb rubs away the remainders of pitiful tears which still linger there. “Credence?” A soft voice speaks his name and he leans into the touch. He doesn’t want to. He wants to bite and transform, to scream and yell, he wants to tear down the building. Maybe he has started shaking, maybe it is just the lightning inside him raging. It has become harder and harder for him to tell where the pain ends and the anger begins. 

“Credence it’s alright, it’s all going to be alright.” 

Another promise, another lie said by someone who wants nothing more than to see him burn. Nothing is going to be alright, it never will be alright for him. He gasps for air as he opens his eyes which he hadn’t realised he had closed. Darkness he knows, but the worried face of Newt is something he has grown to become familiar with as well. “Stop lying to me.” His voice sounds strange, broken and bruised, hoarse from screams which he has kept inside. His throat is ripped open inside, he is hurt, hurt inside his own flesh. “Please, just stop lying to me.” 

Newt picks him up, gently as if he’s holding a new born Occamy, and cradles him. Credence doesn’t remember the last time he has laid in the arms of another. He doesn’t remember the last time someone has held him like this without the intention to hurt him. Graves has loved him, of course he did. Credence clings to the memory of Graves like a toddler clings to their mothers’ hand. He clings to the feeling of being kissed, clings to the pleasure of being touched. Graves has given him so much, and he had been greedy and hadn’t given enough in return. 

“I would never lie to you, please believe me –“ there is another word whispered which gets lost in the ringing of his ears, drowned by the roaring of the lighting. Fingers trace across his cheekbones, slide across his cheek and rest on his neck, thumb stroking jaw. “– darling.” There is a shift in the eyes of the man on top of him. The once so deep dark brown eyes seem to become a bit lighter, they clear up as if a fog has been lifted. “Darling.” Graves whispers again, pressing a light and gentle kiss to his lips. It would be the only one he’d ever get from him. After that moment the haze settles on those brown eyes again, and a slap lands on his cheek. 

“Darling.” There are no longer brown eyes within his vision, these eyes he sees before him are green and instead of a mist they harbour the clearness of kindness. “Believe me.” Credence does, he believes in kindness and a gentle soul all over again. He believes in peace and a kingdom come for anyone who has the courage to become something better than they once were. “Kiss me.” He doesn’t know why he asks, maybe he just wants to know. Maybe he just wants proof that there will be a difference. That this time, the lighting will calm instead of roar. All he knows is that he needs to understand. He needs this, more than he’s ever needed anything. “Please.” 

He is used to begging, he has done it ever since he can remember. He has begged for mercy from god, he has begged for mercy from mother. Credence even has begged for sweet oblivion late at night, when Graves was digging his nails into the skin of his thighs and marking him as his. But never has he begged for something as this. Never has he wanted something more as this either.  
Newt looks at him with worry in his eyes, and maybe there is something else, something which Credence can’t quite place. He likes to think that it’s love which is visible. Not that he knows what this form of love looks like. At least it isn’t pity. 

Newt gives him what he desires, a gentle peck on the lips, so soft Credence wonders if it was ever actually there to begin with if it wasn’t for the gentle warmth spreading inside of him. The lightning calmed, curled up like a cat and rested upon his heart. His breathing became calm and the shaking stopped. It was as if he had been cured. 

Fingers glide through his hair (It had grown longer than his mother ever allowed it to, and it had even started to curl a little at the bottom) and the embrace he had found himself him only seemed to tighten around him. The world stopped around them, there was no New York, no Tina and Queenie, there even was no god around to watch and judge him. All there was left was them, sitting on a bathroom floor. Credence doesn’t know when he’d started to return the embrace, all he knows is that his arms are wrapped around Newt his waist and that he doesn’t want to let go anytime soon. 

“Was it alright?” Newt asks him in a soft tone, still playing with his hair. “Did it help?” Credence doesn’t know exactly, it calmed the lightning and gave him peace, but it had also opened another part of himself he had never discovered. He noticed that he wanted it again, and again. He didn’t want Newt’s lips to ever leave his again. It was wrong, it was sinful, and he was absolutely sure that Newt had only kissed him because he had asked. No, he hadn’t asked, he had begged. “Yes, thank you.” He lies. 

Graves had never allowed him to feel any real pleasure, as soon as the pain had started to fade and he could feel the slightest hint of pleasure from their activities he would hurt him again. No matter if it was through biting or a slap or a hand wrapped around his throat until darkness came once again. Credence didn’t know what it felt like to feel anything other than pain and the darkness of sin. He wonders if it would be different with Newt.

The door to the bathroom opens and the two sisters are both looking in. Credence feels spied upon, as if he has just lost his last shred of privacy and dignity. “Are you alright, honey?” Queenie asks, voice soft and gentle as if she was speaking to a scared dog in the streets. “Would you like some hot coco?” He feels like a child, like he can’t take care of himself without the gentle help of the people around him. Another sob escapes, but this is different, this is no heart breaking cry for help, this is a sob of defeat, a sob of surrender. The lightning is still calm, still curled up on his heart, and Newt is still gently stroking his hair. 

“I would like that very much.” Credence tries to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Then we’ll make some for you, won’t we Tina?” They leave, most likely towards the little kitchen, but Credence can’t be sure. All he knows is that he is secretly glad to have them out of his vision because now he can pretend for a little while longer that it is just Newt and him in this world. Just them, and no one else. 

“Please don’t be mad at me.” He whispers while he looks at the tiles beneath them, he doesn’t have enough courage to look Newt in the eye, not after what he had just requested of the man. He can’t face the disgust which must surely be lingering in those beautiful green eyes. “I could never be mad at you, darling. Believe me.” A gentle kiss is pressed to his forehead, a promise with all intentions to being kept. 

Credence doesn’t believe in promises anymore, not after there had been so many which had gotten broken. He doesn’t believe that people can truly be true to their words. It is actions that he trusts. A thumb which gently wipes away the new tears which are decorating his pale skin, the ghost of a kiss on his cheek, the warmth of a body protectively wrapped around his. 

He doesn’t love, he never learned how to. Credence never loved his mother, and he had only been protecting his sisters from her wrath. The love he had learned had been destructive on both ends of the spectrum. Walking the fine line between it had been impossible to do. Yet, maybe he could learn how to. Maybe he could set aside all the memories of pain, trade them in for new happier ones. 

It doesn’t matter how much sugar Credence puts in his coco, he can’t help but realise that it will never be as sweet as the gentle pressure of Newts’ lips against his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so awfully sorry for not being able to update this fic during the weekend but my shifts have been hell.  
> I'm aware that this chapter might feel... different... from the previous two, I tried not to put my own feelings and experiences into this but I failed. I know my writing style changes whenever I do that, and I hope that it didn't bother you guys too much. 
> 
> Expect another update later this week ♥
> 
> Please leave comments about how you want this story to continue, I myself have some ideas but I would love to hear your thoughts and ideas. Give me some new perspective.


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